


choices

by IvyPrincess



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Experimental Style, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22987633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyPrincess/pseuds/IvyPrincess
Summary: every day, donghyuck wakes up with a choice.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	choices

His choice stands by his bed when he wakes up, takes the seat behind him on the train, leans awkwardly against the wall of his cubicle at work.

No one else can see his choice, in its all black attire. No one else notices, even when they jostle into it on the streets, even when their gazes slide right past it.

 _Go away_ , Donghyuck tells his choice.

 _I cannot_ , his choice replies.

Somehow, Donghyuck wasn’t surprised when his choice had appeared, had inserted itself into his life like it had always been there. He just woke up one morning to stare into eyes as empty as he felt.

 _Good morning_ , Death had greeted him. _Please come with me_.

They did say death would have a familiar face.

But Donghyuck was tired. And he was sad. And most of all, he wanted to go back to bed.

 _No_ , he tells Death, and rolls back over to fall asleep.

Death still hasn’t left by the time he plops down in front of the TV with a bowl of cereal.

 _Come with me_ , the hauntingly familiar face repeats.

 _No_ , Donghyuck replies promptly without even looking. If death wanted him so badly, it could try a little harder.

It was his choice, after all.

Although Death never pushes him or persuades him any further, it doesn’t leave either, following him to work and back home day after day like a lost puppy, albeit a silent one.

Donghyuck can’t hear footsteps, or the swish of that black suit, but even at night, his choice’s shadow is noticeably darker than their surroundings. He can’t escape its constant presence.

Donghyuck hasn’t felt this safe in a while.

Nothing changes. Donghyuck learns to not stare at thin air when talking to his colleagues, learns to stop asking for a table for two at his favorite restaurant, learns he doesn’t need to make room for his choice in a crowd because even if they lose sight of each other, they’re never separated for long.

They don’t speak to each other much, despite spending all their time around each other. Donghyuck doesn’t want to speak. His choice wouldn’t know how to answer.

But it is comforting, in its own way, to have another body in his apartment again. To not be alone, but more importantly, to not be lonely.

Twisted of him to seek out companionship in death, isn't it?

It’s something that approaches pleasantness, though. His choice can’t escape him if he wants to rant about his coworkers, or gush over a new song, or hide behind its shoulder during the scariest parts of a horror movie. He might not be able to escape his choice, but neither can his choice escape him, staring at his wild gesticulations with round eyes and the slightest confused head tilt. It’s almost endearing, or maybe Donghyuck has just gotten used to living with death.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

 _When will you leave?_ Donghyuck demands, but the ire in his voice is a facade for emotion he’s not willing to name.

 _When will you come with me?_ Death retorts tonelessly, no change in its blank face.

His choice has learned to banter.

Their impasse continues.

Donghyuck dreams terribly some nights: no eldritch horrors or blood and brimstone, just the wholly mundane fear of losing everyone he loves, of falling, of an overwhelming wave of panic with no cause he can pinpoint.

It wakes him up, some nights, to a figure standing at the foot of his bed. The room is dark, but Donghyuck can still feel his choice’s stare.

 _Come with me_ , it repeats. _Come with me, and you won’t dream like this anymore._

Donghyuck laughs. He falls asleep again without replying, dreamless but peaceful. (He feels protected. He shouldn’t.)

At some point, Donghyuck knows, he’ll reach his breaking point. He walks the line a little tighter every time he sees his choice pause at the entrance of the hospital they pass every day, every time his choice brushes absent fingertips over the dented streetlight at the corner of the intersection. 

Donghyuck remembers. He wonders if his choice will, too.

He sees it in the furrow of his chioce’s brows, the many times it almost starts to say something, the slight pause whenever the convenience store auntie flashes a sad smile Donghyuck’s way. He dreads what may happen when his choice realizes.

And he wonders if he should rethink his constant refusal.

And then comes the day when Death is not there anymore. The sun shines brightly, the way it hasn’t since his choice first appeared, but Donghyuck is distracted the entire day, unable to work without the silent presence he’s grown accustomed to making space for. He misses his many attempts to get a reaction out of Death, he misses the constancy of their exchanges, he misses the gloom that enveloped his days like a half-remembered embrace.

He misses having a choice.

Donghyuck trudges home in the worst of moods, resigning himself to a solitary lifestyle again. The sunlight is hard to get used to after so long without, catching on the diamond on his ring finger. It’s a blinding reminder of what he doesn’t have anymore, and he sullenly shoves his fist back into his pocket.

But the apartment isn’t empty when he arrives home. His choice is waiting for him.

Death looks a little different this time, without the suit jacket, sleeves rolled up and looking distinctly ruffled. Even his hair isn’t as coiffed as usual. He looks a little rougher, a little more… alive. There’s intent in his eyes, and Donghyuck knows.

Death remembers.

“Come with me,” Death demands insistently as soon as Donghyuck has closed the door behind him, eyes more fiery than he’s ever seen them. “I know who you are. I know who I am to you. _Come with me._ ”

Donghyuck staggers back against the door as Mark stalks closer, but it’s not fear that has his heart racing.

“Come with me,” Mark whispers softly as Donghyuck squeezes his eyes shut. A hand strokes gently down his cheek, and he shivers from the cold tinge of the metal band that matches the one on his own finger.

“Come with me, Hyuck-ah.”

And Donghyuck lets the first tears fall.

**Author's Note:**

> posted this on twitter really fast when i was feeling down and decided to clean it up here! let me know what you thought on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/hurricane_ivy) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/hurricane_ivy)


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